


Clarity

by humandalek



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:45:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humandalek/pseuds/humandalek
Summary: After nearly a month of crying at night and feeling generally empty during any quiet moments of her days, Serena moves through the weepy phase of her grief at being abandoned by Bernie. Serena starts to feel angry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic. I was going to write a headcanon for moandkatelive's headcanon contest on tumblr but I ended up writing this!
> 
> Hope you like it.

After nearly a month of crying at night and feeling generally empty during any quiet moments of her days, Serena moves through the weepy phase of her grief at being abandoned by Bernie. Serena starts to feel angry.

She wears a new shirt she’s just bought, in which she looks stunning, and absolutely roasts the poor bloke who mistakenly decides to catcall her. The Wolfe-whistle just made her blood boil. 

She snaps at Morven who questions whether the elderly patient in bed three really needs all four of the different investigative scans that Serena has ordered. Serena has learnt from experience that older patients with this presentation can often be misdiagnosed with devastating consequences.. 

She spurns Raf’s suggestion that they try a more standard technique to operate on the young patient in bed seven. Serena is more than capable of completing the tricky surgery to give the patient a quicker recovery time.. How dare Raf and Morven question her. Goddammit. She is Serena Campbell. She is an excellent doctor. How can the team she is so close to doubt that she knows what she’s doing? 

Mess too receives the brunt of Serena’s mood. The end of a packet of biscuits are hurled into the bin as their predecessors left scattered crumbs across the nurses’ station. The entire team receive a sharp lecture about keeping patient notes tidy after Serena is unable to immediately find an important drug chart at the end of her shift. 

Even at home Serena cannot relax. Has Jason always been this untidy? For the fourth time that week, Serena picks up Jason’s shoes from the floor and places them neatly on the shoe rack. In the kitchen, soil from some sort of botanical experiment covers the table and causes another frown. However Serena is exhausted and just eats her microwave meal on the sofa, full wine glass stable enough on the flat arm of the comfortable seat. 

Dinner on the sofa does little to improve Serena’s mood. In fact, after discarding her plate on the coffee table and stretching her feet across the seat, the feel of the soft upholstery with the underlying firmness of the well-made piece of furniture takes Serena into a heart-tearing flashback. Serena realises she has completely avoided the sofa for the past month. Just days before Bernie left her, the strong but gentle army medic had softly pressed Serena down into the firm padding in one of the most absorbing kisses of Serena’s life. The memory of feeling simultaneously so safe and so thrilled hits Serena’s chest like a truck in a RTC. If only she had invited Bernie upstairs there and then, like she desperately wanted to, would things have been different? For just a second she strokes the material and pushes herself down into the cushions before leaping up, gulping the last of her glass of Shiraz and heading to the kitchen for a re-fill. 

This time the sight of the soil across the table, oh and also the floor, generates a sigh that is almost a growl. Serena swallows more wine and marches up the stairs to confront the culprit. 

Jason is unimpressed by his aunt’s angry outburst. He does apologise for not cleaning the kitchen when Serena doesn’t accept that the room with the ideal temperature and light conditions for his experiment must be covered in dirt so thoroughly. However Jason shows no remorse about leaving his shoes on the floor. He had no idea that Serena wanted him to leave his shoes elsewhere. 

“Well how was I supposed to know that Aunty Serena? I don’t know what you want unless you tell me clearly. You should know better. If you want someone to know something, you have to tell them.” 

Serena feels bad. Demanding use of a shoe rack is perhaps unfair. She leaves Jason alone and heads back downstairs. As she wipes away the soil, washes her plate and places the empty wine bottle in the recycling box, Jason’s words echo in her mind. Lying in bed, Serena’s thoughts continue to spin. 

She cannot sleep. Her expensive mattress feels not dissimilar to the sofa cushions, and whilst it’s usually so inviting, Serena cannot get comfortable. She thinks back over her day, realising that Morven and Raf deserve explanations from her as to why she makes certain clinical decisions, for their learning but importantly so that the medical team continue to function smoothly with everyone on the same page. Bernie was always good at that. The team were a well-oiled machine with her in charge. 

After avoiding these thoughts for so long, Serena allows herself to wonder how the trauma surgeon is getting on in Kiev. Serena doesn’t even know how big the new trauma unit is going to be. They’ve exchanged a few texts but Serena has previously avoided asking too many questions. She has been so scared of finding details that suggest Bernie will be away for more than the shortest possible time. Serena Campbell is unaccustomed with being scared. It doesn’t happen often. The most unruly patients and members of the board fail to intimidate her. Yet, this blonde macho army medic has turned her life upside down and Serena is petrified. She’s so afraid that Bernie won’t come back. 

For the first time, Serena acknowledges how angry she feels at the woman. No one should be able to make Serena Campbell feel like this. Does she even realise what she’s done? Serena feels that Bernie is much more aware of how leaving has affected her than Jason was about the impact of his shoe placement. Goodness, she must apologise to him tomorrow, and follow his advice about clear communication in future. 

Right now though, Serena has someone else to be clear to. 

Serena has no idea how much the 17 minute 43 second phone call she made to Bernie’s voicemail will cost her and she doesn’t care. Her anger hasn’t gone but Serena feels peaceful now. If Bernie was in any doubt about what Serena wants, well, now she has some clarity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17m 43s Serena.   
> For possibly the 30th time that day, Bernie Wolfe selected the voicemail icon on her mobile and stared for a second at the details of the only “unread” message, before locking the screen and stuffing the phone deep into her pocket. Bernie had previously pretended to herself that the little number one adorning the icon was an annoying nuisance but for days it had been muscle memory that drew Bernie’s finger to the same place again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. Writing a second chapter was so much harder than writing the first. So much respect to you writers who do this on a regular basis - it's so hard to get in exactly what I want to say in an entertaining way.. Oh well, I wanted to try and get some Bernie PoV down before she's back for real (ahhhhhh so soon!)
> 
> Thanks so much for the comments on the first chapter!

For possibly the 30th time that day, Bernie Wolfe selected the voicemail icon on her mobile and stared for a second at the details of the only “unread” message, before locking the screen and stuffing the phone deep into her pocket. Bernie had previously pretended to herself that the little number one adorning the icon was an annoying nuisance but for days it had been muscle memory that drew Bernie’s finger to the same place again and again. 

 

Bernie had berated herself repeatedly over the past three weeks for being what she termed ‘a giant wuss’ for not listening to Serena’s message. But the decision to remain oblivious to the content of the call always won out in Bernie’s internal dialogue. The stakes were too high; ‘Schrödinger's Voicemail’, as she had labelled it, had the power to bring either joy or devastating heartbreak. 

In Holby, Bernie had spent a great deal of time paying heightened attention to Serena’s words and opinions. Her brained buzzed with an assortment of memories of Serena’s derogatory rants and continuous outbursts of disparaging comments when Holby staff or patients failed to meet her particular standards. It wasn’t that Bernie wasn’t aware of Serena’s ability to give out positive comments and praise. In the weeks for she left for Kiev, Bernie had been on the receiving end of some truly heart-fluttering compliments. It’s just, Bernie thought to herself, 17 minutes and 43 seconds – Serena would never spend that long being nice, would she? Serena’s fiery insults could go on for hours but Bernie couldn’t imagine what else Serena could be saying for so long. Bernie was acutely aware she had most likely caused Serena considerable pain or at least confusion. She feared that the message was from a hurt and angry Serena listing all the reasons why that’s Bernie’s fault.

In almost all her free moments, Bernie found herself contemplating the harm she had caused. This itself was painful, so to avoid this, Bernie tried to keep free moments in Kiev to a minimum. Within the walls of the hospital, this task was just about manageable. There was a lot of work to be done and Bernie threw herself whole-heartedly into creating a Trauma Unit she could be proud of. She worked with great zest and made an excellent impression with her Ukrainian colleagues. After the somewhat stifling restraints of Holby protocol, the free reign to pass on her extensive knowledge and passion to the Ukrainian medics was a breath of fresh air for the army surgeon. She spoke avidly about the developments of modern trauma medicine to anyone who displayed the slightest interest or talent for the field. Bernie gave her time to any member of staff. She spent each day answering in detail an array of medical and organisational questions but also discussing queries about a variety of aspects of British culture. Although it turned out some of the Ukranians seemed to know more about some aspects of English pop-culture than she did. Over time, this care and dedication to both the job and her colleagues made the Major well-liked at KCH.

Most days, Major Wolfe stayed at work until around midnight. Bernie almost always found one reason or another to be at the hospital. She had accidentally started hosting various operating technique tutorials. These began as a couple of impromptu chats-turned-presentations but word quickly got out and the extent of requests from colleagues meant that a schedule had soon formed. When there was no one around wanting an optional lesson, Bernie scrubbed in to extra surgeries. Sometimes her own, sometimes assisting the other surgeons. Bernie enjoyed being a helpful sounding board when required but also like to just be absorbed in the completion of an operation by a colleague. Bernie was comfortable in the operating theatre. She knew what she was doing. Even when a surgery didn’t go to plan, or an injury was extremely urgent, Bernie had confidence in herself. She wished this confidence didn’t wash away when she removed her scrubs and left the hospital. 

 

Today the operating theatres had all been full so Bernie had spent a couple of hours after her gruelling shift hanging out at the nurses’ station getting in the way and repeatedly checking her phone. Her excuse for being there was a need to persuade Anya, a bright young nurse, to specialise in urgent care. Anya was new to the Trauma Unit and Bernie’s encouragement and advice really brought a smile to Anya’s face. After nearly two hours of being bugged by the experienced surgeon Anya burst into laughter and agreed to seriously think about it.

“And what about you Ms Wolfe? Will you stay here with me, or do you have to go back to England? I heard the CEO wants you to stay. What does your family think about you being here?”

“Erm…” Not expecting the questions, Bernie was unable to formulate a coherent sentence. She was dragged back from memories of home by Anya’s facial expression. It was just the same as one she’d seen a few times before – she realised it was Jason’s ‘I don’t understand why you are moving so slowly’ look. Bernie suddenly experienced an unexpected craving for proper Chip Shop chips, and a slight pang of the homesickness she had staved off for so long.

“Erm… Perhaps it’s time I find out.” The young nurse gave Bernie another puzzled look and decided it was time the Major went home. Stating that she must have had a very long day, Anya passed Bernie her coat and practically marched her off the ward.

As the hospital doors closed behind her, Bernie’s thoughts returned to Serena and Jason. As she walked, the flash of passing cars invoked visions cloaked in brightly coloured shirts and as she passed each restaurant and take-away on her short walk Bernie was hit again with the desire for chips.

Following her nose, she ended up in a fast food outlet. Musing that the fries here could only be a disappointment compared to fat vinegary potato chunks she was craving, Bernie noticed that the bottom shelf of the drinks cabinet behind the counter was stocked with wine.

The fries actually weren’t too bad, sprinkled with two of those fiddly sachets of vinegar and accompanied with a large glass of red wine. Bernie didn’t bother with a plate but sat on her sofa, chips on lap, wine glass balanced on the arm.

Before she could finish the less-than-healthy supper, Bernie forced herself to reach for her mobile once more. She stared at the screen for a final time. In 18 minutes, ‘Schrödinger's Voicemail’ would be no more. Bernie would have clarity. After the anguish of not listening to it for so long, Bernie Wolfe felt relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Sorry for not including the actual voicemail content!  
> If anyone else wants to write that, or a take a prompt of 'write a Berena fic with voicemail content in it' then please do!


End file.
